


Partners

by Space_Cadet_Blues



Series: Blood and Stone [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mage Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Romance, Werewolf Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27194648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Cadet_Blues/pseuds/Space_Cadet_Blues
Summary: Connor's choice of familiar is rather unorthodox, much to Hank's displeasure.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Blood and Stone [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582276
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Partners

"Hank, I want one."

"No," Hank says, for the hundredth time in two days without looking up from his book.

He licks a finger and turns a page. He can see Connor frowning into the fire on the edge of his vision, wrapped in a fine silk robe and curled up in the plush ruby coloured wing backed chair identical to his own opposite him. Hank can almost hear his thoughts. 

Thoughts about shining scales as hard as diamond, enormous wings casting deep shadows and fire so hot it could melt rock and turn sand to glass in seconds.

"No," he says again. For good measure.

Connor's gaze is heavy as he turns to glare at Hank.

Hank tries to keep his attention on his book.

Why can’t they have just _one_ quiet evening? These last handful of days were supposed to be relaxing. They’d spent some of their well earned gold (Connor had to be talked out of bewitching the tavern owner) and rented a very expensive room in an upmarket town near the mountains to take in some truly beautiful scenery, and breathe for five minutes in between contracts.

Hank had also been daydreaming for weeks about _romancing_ Connor in a large bed with clean sheets, and _not_ in a haphazardly thrown up tent or on a filthy blanket on the forest floor wherever they decide to set up camp.

But then the day after their arrival, Connor had seen a dragon soaring down from atop a nearby mountain peak. Shimmering white and blue, spikes, horns, claws that could rip an ox in two and all the rest of it. He had been instantly enraptured. Much to Hank’s chagrin.

Whilst the townspeople rang bells, dashed for cover and just generally panicked. Connor had sought higher ground to get a better look.

Hank knows mages have a strange connection with nature. Effortless communication with certain beasts, _which_ beast depending on the mage themselves. But Hank is praying to the gods above that Connor’s soul tailored beast is _not_ a dragon.

There’s also something about it all that makes him feel a ridiculous jealousy. Is Hank not half beast himself? Is he not enough?

“I could just take an egg. Wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Connor mumbles thoughtfully, mostly to himself.

Hank does look up then. Had Connor not seen the size of the damned thing! He’d not taken his eyes off of it the entire time it had flown overhead.

“Connor, you’re _not_ taking an egg. It’d be trouble if you hatched a damn _chicken_ let alone a dragon. How exactly would you care for it?”

“The same way I care for _you_ ,” Connor says narrowing his eyes.

Hank chuckles at that. “I sure hope not. I’m sure that kind of thing is illegal,” he jokes and Connor’s face lights up a brilliant pink, visible even in the light from the fireplace between them.

Hank loves to see it.

“I meant with dutiful patience and love.”

Hank full on laughs then a breath away from slapping his knee in amusement. “ _Patience_?”

“I’m perfectly capable of it,” Connor says, voice a little icy round the edges, and he pulls his robe a little tighter around himself defensively.

“Only when it suits you,” Hank says, smiling.

“Yes well, the same can be said of you.”

“We’re not talking about me. I’m not the one wanting a fire breathing reptile the size of a carriage as a _pet_.”

Hank puts his book down with a sigh. He can see that he’s not going to finish his chapter tonight.

Connor shifts a little restlessly in his chair “It takes years for them to grow that large. It’d be the size of a cat at least.”

“And then it gets a little bigger and takes off over farmland and devours an entire flock of sheep. Suddenly the villagers are having dragon stew and we’re on every wanted list on the county.”

“We already are, practically... In Hirane at least. _I_ am anyway.” Connor says this with a subtle flare of pride.

Hank leans back in his chair, tipping his head back and letting out a frustrated breath. “That’s a city.”

“Still wanted.”

Hank shifts forward, the chair creaking under him as he points a finger in Connor’s direction and meets his eyes.

“No dragons,” he says, voice low and authoritative.

And Connor has the pure cheek to ask: “What about Wyverns?”

Hank groans and drags a hand over his face.

The corner or Connor’s lips quirk upwards and he returns to half dozing, enjoying the warmth of the fire like a cat.

***

Later that night when Hank is kissing his way along the column of Connor's neck, the heavy silken sheets pooled around them, firelight dancing over their skin, Hank is about to rumble into Connor's ear to grab the slick when Connor is suddenly distracted by something outside of the window.

“Hank, it’s back,” Connor whispers excitedly, extracting himself from Hanks arms and bounding from the bed -naked as the day he was born- to throw open the windows and lean out into the chilly night.

Hank gives an inelegant shout and pulls the covers up over him, the cold all but snuffing out his arousal.

“Connor!”

“Don’t you think he’s beautiful?”

“Fucking _stunning_ , are you coming back to bed?” Hank grunts.

A low, eerie and almost sorrowful noise like the far off blow of a horn but deep and guttural peels down the mountainside and sweeps on the wind into the bedroom.

Hank can see the hulking but oddly graceful form of the dragon from earlier, silhouetted against the gibbous moon, circling a mountain peak far off in the distance.

“He’s calling for his mate.”

“Glad to see I’m not the only one not getting any.”

Connor shoots him a look. “Just listen.”

Hank does.

The sad yearning trills the great beast lets out roll across the land. It _is_ beautiful, he thinks, in a strange way. He can see why Connor admires them. Something that powerful exhibiting connection and yearning.

Hank gets out of bed and drags the covers with him, draping the sheet around his shoulders like a grand flowing cloak. He steps up next to Connor and pulls him against the warmth of his body, creating a makeshift cocoon as they watch the dragon swoop and soar together.

Hank’s not sure how long they’ve been watching for when suddenly there’s an answering call.

Hank has to stop Connor from leaning too far over the sill and falling into the perfectly manicured flowerbed below.

A great shadow passes over the town and eventually a slightly smaller silhouette joins the first. They fly around each other in something like a dance, calling to each other.

Hank gently squeezes Connor against him reflexively.

They continue to watch until the dragons set off, no doubt heading back to their nesting site.

Connor exhales a satisfied sigh, breath streaming out in a puffy white cloud on the cold air.

“Can we shut the windows now?”

“Are you cold?” Connor asks, grinning. The cold doesn’t really affect him if he doesn’t want it to. The benefits of magic. Hank is slightly jealous. “I suppose I can warm you up.”

Connor waves his hand as he walks back to the bed, the windows click shut and the deep red curtains draw closed, and the fire burns brighter.

Hank eyes the spot in front of the hearth and Connor seems to read his mind, gathering all available pillows and blankets.

***

Hank makes love to him in front of the fire and after as they lay in their makeshift nest of bedcovers, sweat cooling on their skin, Connor grows quiet and thoughtful, idly playing with Hank's fingers in the silence as Hank spoons him from behind, pressing feather light kisses to his neck just to watch him smile.

"Did you know dragons mate for life?" Connor asks after a while.

“I don’t know much about them at all to be honest. Just not to piss them off.”

Connor laughs and Hank brings Connor’s slender hand to his lips pressing a kiss to the back of it lovingly.

Connor turns in his arms to look at him.

“Do you think Lycanthropes mate for life?”

Many don’t live long enough to find out Hank thinks. But instead he says “Maybe” with promise in his eyes.

Connor smiles.

“If we have a ceremony. Will you gift me a dragon egg-“

“ _Connor_ ,” Hank groans.

Connor laughs.

“I can’t promise anything like that.”

“Why?”

“Because if we do have a ceremony I won’t be able to deliver on it. Best stick to something realistic.”

Connor flushes at the serious look on Hank’s face and Hank feels a little heat in his own cheeks. Connor turns to face the fire again, pulling Hank’s arm by the wrist snugly around him. Hank feels Connor touch Hank’s ring finger carefully.

“Something pretty then,” he says softly.

“Something pretty,” Hank agrees.


End file.
